


The Deathstick

by AvaJune



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cussing, Elder Wand, F/M, Feels snuck in here accidentally, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, POV Ron Weasley, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 18:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15419280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaJune/pseuds/AvaJune
Summary: A Prompt Fulfillment for Lightsaber DildosExcerpt:"Ron shuts his eyes and breaths heavily through his nose as she cries out, trying so hard to convince himself not to cast the spell. He doesn’t have to do it; he can try to roll over and just go to sleep. No one is going to make him sit through the torture of it. He knows it will just make it worse to watch what Harry does to her, what she lets him do to her, but he’s weak, so FUCKING weak and she’s beautiful... "





	The Deathstick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BitOfANerdInGeneral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitOfANerdInGeneral/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [BitOfANerdInGeneral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitOfANerdInGeneral/pseuds/BitOfANerdInGeneral) in the [starwars_fun_with_emobearthing](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/starwars_fun_with_emobearthing) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
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> Hermione and Harry have played around with their wands before but once Harry gets the Elder Wand, they just can't wait to try out this new power. Could be in the tent with Ron nearby so it's semi-public but I don't mind if it's not.

It was never supposed to be like this. If Ron had just stayed with Harry and Hermione, if he could have controlled that impulse to throw such an epic temper tantrum, if he would have recognized the influence of the Horcrux- Merlin, he’d give almost anything to have that moment back. 

 

Because now Mione’s breathy moan of pleasure is crashing over his senses from one room over and he isn’t there while that sound is being pulled from her. He clenches his fists into the fabric of his trousers as he lays in his cold, cold bed and tries to control the swelling in his pants because, come on, even if she’s with Harry instead right now, it’s still Mione. It’s still the sound of the woman he’s in love with coming undone and maybe he’s a masochist (okay, he’s definitely a masochist) because he feels like he deserves this for what he did to her, leaving her like that. Leaving THEM like that. Part of him revels in the rightness of the longing in his gut when he can hear her pleasure but not feel it, not cause it. 

 

He can see it though, if he chooses to. Ron shuts his eyes and breaths heavily through his nose as she cries out, trying so hard to convince himself not to cast the spell. He doesn’t have to do it; he can try to roll over and just go to sleep. No one is going to make him sit through the torture of it. He knows it will just make it worse to watch what Harry does to her, what she lets him do to her, but he’s weak, so FUCKING weak and she’s beautiful... 

 

“Translucens Per Partes,” Ron whispers, flicking his wand and facing the wall to his left. He bites back a groan at the scene that greets him, giving in and slowly unbuckling his trousers even as he hates himself a little for it. He never knows what he’ll see when he loses his control and casts that damned spell but tonight is clearly a Wand Night and he wonders for a moment if the Elder Wand makes any difference to their play. 

 

The bed in the room next to his faces the wall he just charmed so he could see through it and the love of his life is naked on top of the sheets. Her bare, flushed chest heaves as she writhes on the bed, arms secured to the headboard with nothing more than magic and Harry’s willpower as she pulls fruitlessly at her invisible bindings. Her legs are spread wide open, wantonly, just like he knows Harry demands on Wand Night. The muscles of her thighs shake with the strength of the sensations coursing through her body and Ron could not look away from the sight between those thighs if the world began to burn around him. 

 

Vaguely, he is aware of the sight of Harry sitting in an armchair slightly to the right of the end of the bed. His best friend is still fully clothed because although most of the time everyone gets off when they play, Wand Night had always been less about feeling good and more about what they really, really need. The war broke pieces of everybody and now they are all royally fucked up so- 

 

Ron’s train of thought derails completely when Mione screams. Focusing back on the length of wood currently buried inside the beautiful witch he loves, he watches as it thickens even more, causing her to pant and beg and pull even harder to free her arms. 

 

“Harry,” she cries out, trying desperately to see him from his spot beyond her feet. “Please, it’s so big. It’s TOO big.” 

 

Harry tilts his head but says nothing, flicking his fingers so that the wand begins to vibrate at impossible speeds and Hermione sputters, eyes rolling into the back of her head at the over-stimulation. 

 

He shouldn’t do it, he shouldn’t, but Ron palms his cock anyway, listening to the incoherent sounds Mione makes as the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the very instrument of Voldemort’s demise begins to move in and out of her seemingly of its own accord. The thickened wood thrusts into her at Harry’s whim and she whines deep in the back of her throat when Harry moves to the side of the bed and strokes her sweaty curls from her face. 

 

“I can’t do it,” she pants out, turning those big brown eyes on Harry in a plea for clemency all three of them know he won’t grant. Instead, he shushes her, rubbing a finger gently along her cheekbone as he looks down her sweat soaked body and increases the tempo of the thrusts with a flick of his wrist. 

 

Ron’s own thrusts into his dry palm speed as well but his focus is on the scene in front of him. He won’t even wet his palm, won’t spread his precum, won’t give himself the little pleasures that he craves so badly. While Harry dips his mouth to Mione’s breast, taking one hardened nub against his tongue as she keens, Ron loosens his grip, keeping himself maddened with want but never giving enough. It’s not enough for Mione either, Ron knows, because she’s one of the many women who can’t cum at all unless she has the friction she needs on her clit. Harry will touch her everywhere but where she really, truly wants it before he lets her go over because it’s what she needs. 

 

Harry pulls back, letting her nipple pop from his mouth before replacing his lips with his thumb and forefinger. Mione’s back is bowed off the bed and she is still making those sounds that drive Ron insane, still keening and begging for more or for less in turns. 

 

“Is it more than my normal wand?” Harry asks, voice unaffected even as his own cock strains at the zipper of his trousers. 

 

“So much more,” Mione answers him breathlessly, hips twisting desperately against the Elder Wand as it moves mercilessly within her. “It goes deeper and harder and it tingles- the ridges Harry, I can’t, I just CAN’T, I-” 

 

Finally, finally, tears begin to slip down her cheeks and a sob breaks from her chest and Ron can feel his balls tighten in anticipation. This is what Harry waits for, the moment she finally lets go of that iron grip she has on her emotions. More than Mione ever needs a physical release, she needs an emotional one and she can’t get it until that big, beautiful brain of hers finally goes quiet. Harry loves her just as much as Ron does, loves Ron too, and so he gives them what they need. It’s what Harry needs too. 

 

Her emotional release valve having given way, Harry kisses her tear-dampened lips lightly before he moves down her body. Normally, now is the moment Harry would suck her clit into his mouth but Ron watches in fascination as instead, his best friend hesitates. After a moment, Harry scrunches up his face in concentration and reaches a hand down to the Elder Wand and to Ron’s shock, the wood begins to bend. As if it is made of nothing more than rubber, Harry curves the vibrating wood until it is pressed against Hermione’s most sensitive spot and he holds it there. 

 

Mione’s back arches even further as she sputters out thanks and praises, tears still streaking down her face and thrusting downwards against the wood assaulting her tender flesh even as Ron’s hand begins to fly across his own. His palm is still dry and his grip is still loose, barely satisfying, but as she screams and her entire sex convulses around the Elder Wand, his own orgasm threatens to pull him over. 

 

Wand Night is about what he needs, not what he wants, so as the waves begin to crest Ron removes his hand completely, feeling the pleasure die down to nothingness even as his balls empty across the floor between his legs. He grits his teeth at the longing and the frustration of it as his cock twitches helplessly, a few final spurts forcing their way through, but it’s his penance and he needs it as much as he needs his next meal. Tomorrow night, they’ll all come and he’ll probably spend himself deep inside the woman he loves and it will be glorious. But not tonight. 

 

His eyes are still clenched shut tight when he hears Mione call for him. Harry turns to the wall Ron has been watching though and murmurs a spell to vanish it, leaving them all together once more in their previously modified bedroom. The charms holding her in place have been released and Harry is stripping out of his clothes even as he sets the Elder Wand on the table beside the bed. Mione holds out a hand to him and Harry raises an eyebrow as he grins and even though Ron is exhausted, unworthy, and a million other things he still reaches for his wand to spell away the mess on the floor before standing up to strip his clothes too. Harry cancels the transfiguration on the couch Ron was using as a bed as Ron finishes his task and crawls into the bed. He settles with his face buried in Mione’s chest and Harry settles on her other side and for a moment, they simply catch their breath and revel in the momentary peace they all feel. 

 

Looking up, Ron takes a moment to wipe the tear stains from Hermione’s face even as she smiles at him. He looks at Harry then, noting the contentment on his best friend’s face even though he did not even have the benefit of the barely-there orgasm Ron did.  

 

“Do you think the Elder Wand was too much?” he asks. 

 

Harry tightens his grip on Hermione’s hip as he tilts his head and considers. Ron does not want Harry, not like that, but there is nothing they don’t share, nothing they keep from one another, and being naked in a bed with him feels completely normal (and has felt that way for months.) 

 

“No,” Harry says, shaking his head a little and coughing when a stray hair of Hermione’s threatens to choke him. “I think the intensity of it, the extra sensation, is a good thing.” 

 

They both look to Mione, silently asking her opinion as she is the one whose input will truly settle the matter. 

 

Ron watches as the love of his life chews on her bottom lip, noting the adoration shining in Harry’s eyes must be reflected in his own. Mione chuckles softly even as she blushes. “Did you know that muggles, originally beginning in France, sometimes call the transcendence achieved through orgasm ‘la petite mort,’ or ‘the little death?’ Frankly, I would have to say that the death caused by the actual ‘DeathStick’ is far from petite.” 

 

Ron snorts out a laugh as Harry smothers a chuckle in the wild mane of brown curls in front of his face. It seems the Elder Wand will be continuing to grace them with little deaths after all. 


End file.
